Shadow of the Grimwake
by Brazen-Monolithe
Summary: A young searat who has never pirated in his life, is recruited by a corsair captain, and must learn the tricks of the trade, for he is about to partake in a very odd quest for what all pirates seek...Chapter 7 up!
1. Devil Winds

Summary: This is about a young corsair searat who has been recruited by a pirate captain. It's obviously from a bad guy's point of view, although the character isn't truly a bad guy. The story mostly takes place on the open sea, and there's a twist. This searat's shipmates and captain end up following a ghost ship on the hunt for treasure. Redwall with a supernatural twist! Enjoy!  
  
The brazen sun slowly breached the horizon, pouring forth brilliant molten rays of gold across the sky. The heaving sea mirrored the dawn colours as it lapped lazily against the dock.  
A young searat leaned on a worn wooden railing, gazing out across the sea and it's tossing white-capped waves.  
A light breeze blew from the sea, carrying a fresh salty scent and playfully tugging at the rat's tunic.  
He sighed, suddenly wishing he was anywhere but here. He turned his head and looked with disdain at the pirate haven behind him. Dim lights could be seen in some building windows, and gray smoke billowed out of stone chimneys. The rat was glad the wind was blowing from the sea and not from the land, for the breeze would carry the foul stench of the corsair settlement; grog, brine, and filth.  
A sudden strong wind gusted up from the ocean, making the rat turn. The strong sea breeze made the waves leap and bubble and the anchored ships heave and buck at their mooring ropes like rabid, chained hellbeasts. The ship's timbers creaked and moaned and riggings hummed with tension. The rat flinched as the waves slammed against the dock supports, spraying icy sea water all over his dark fur. He wished he had his cloak with him, for the wind had a biting chill to it, like cold steel piercing skin.  
Shivering, the rat started back for the dock-side tavern to seek the warmth of a fire and perhaps a morning beaker of ale. He walked briskly, the wooden boards groaning under his footclaws. As he walked, he peered around at the many boats and ships that were anchored here; merchant ships, shallow carracks, narrow sloops, biremes, triremes, fishing boats, fat-bellied cogs, and pirating and war ships of various sizes. He read some of the names given to the vessels by their captains. A little fishing boat that he passed was named the _Sandpiper_, a fitting name, he thought. The _Starless_, a fair sized trireme built of a dark wood lightly bumped the dock as the rat strode past, and several creatures were unloading barrel and crates from a small merchant carrack called the _Drifter_. He read some of the larger ship's names, the _Bloodsurge_, the _Harbinger_, and the _Wavehawk_. He soon passed under the shadow of one of the biggest vessels he had ever seen: The _Tempest_. She had a great sweeping prow and flowing black pennants snapped in the wind atop three towering masts.   
He finally glimpsed the tavern between the hulking bows and breathed a sigh of relief. He quickened his pace at the thought of warmth, food and drink. His mind preoccupied, he did not notice the ship he had just passed until he came under the shadow of it's prow. Stopping, he read it's name.  
The _Deepmurk_.  
His ship.  
Well, not _his_ ship. It was really his captain's, but it would be his home on the open sea for as long as time would allow. He admired the superb carpentry of the vessel; a lustrous, deep chestnut coloured wood with a dark grain. She was a reletively new addition to the corsair fleet of the seas, as he could still detect the faint smell of freshly cut wood and resin. For some reason, this filled the rat with a certain pride. He was to be a crewbeast on the most beautiful ship (in his opinion) ever to sail the seas.  
He allowed a small smile to come to his lips, and was about to start towards the tavern, when he heard gruff voices. Gazing around the docks, he noticed three corsairs sitting on a row of crates. He listened.  
"Feel that? That's a devil's wind, it 'tis. Cold an' dead. I kin feel it in me bones," said a large, burly rat.  
A sinewy ferret sat up, surprised.  
"Devil's wind? How long 'ave ye' bin sailin' these seas for, eh?"  
"I was born on the waves, mate! Bin sailin' all me life."  
"Well, tis' gettin' to yer head. Devil's wind me foot!"  
"Oho! What's this, eh? Gettin' cheeky, are we? I should teach ye' lesson ya won't soon ferget, mate!"  
"Try it and y'll find me cutlass through yer gizzard!"  
"Makin' threats, eh? Yer gonna 'ave to learn some respect fer yer elders!"  
The rat leapt up and brought out two rusted daggers from a broad, dull waist sash. The ferret answered and brandished an evil looking cutlass. He charged the rat.  
The other pirate, another rat who had been silent suddenly spoke up.  
"Whoa there, mates! No point in fightin'! 'Sides, if'n the cap'n saw yers, she'd have yer 'heads on a bowsprit!"  
The ferret spat contemptuously, and was about to reply, but he suddenly looked to where the young searat had been standing and watching.  
"Who's this then?", he said nodding in the rat's direction, "Spyin' on us, were ye?", he called over.  
The rat froze. The pirate who had attempted to break up the fight looked his way and spoke.  
"Oh, that's the new young'un! The cap'n just took 'im on. Part o' the crew, now."  
The ferret smiled evilly and grinned.  
"Is he now? Haharr, fresh meat!"  
The burly rat sheathed his daggers and called out.  
"Ahoy there mate! Why don't ya come on over, an' we kin 'ave a nice liddle chat."  
The rat gulped and slowly approached his new crewmates, hoping they wouldn't gut him alive.  
  
Okay, so, do ya' like? Please review! Oh, concerning flames: If you have any suggestions that's great, and if you don't particularly like it, that's fine. Just don't totally run it down to the ground. Thank you!


	2. Crates and Crewbeasts

Alright, here's part two: You'll learn the rat's name.  
  
The rat wearily eyed the ferret's wicked cutlass. There was no doubt that the owner used it often and well.  
Although they were his new mates, he didn't trust them. If there was one thing he learned during his past and humble life, it was to never trust a pirate.  
Even if you're one of them.  
The rat suddenly realized he wasn't armed, having left his scimitar on the ship. His heart stared pounding, wondering what he would do if they attacked him.  
He started as the ferret mockingly called out again.

"What are ye', a cripple? 'Urry up and git over here!"The rat glanced up at the ferret, who wore an insolent and sly grin about his scruffy face. Thankfully, he had sheathed his cutlass.  
The rat sped his pace, the dock moaning in protest. He stepped onto the boardwalk that connected the dock to the main settlement and finally reached the three. He stood silently with his head tilted downwards, watching for sudden movements. He knew they were peering at him, almost critically, weighing him out, testing him."There now, that weren't so 'ard, were it?"The rat looked up into the eyes of the ferret. Or the eye. The scraggly beast must have been in a tough fight, for a sickly gash ran from the ferret's cheek to his forehead. He did not wear and eyepatch as most pirates would. A torn and hollow eye socket was all that was left. His other good eye glinted darkly at the rat. He was tall and muscular, with a broad chest and shoulders, and wore a faded red tunic tied by a frayed rope. He looked aside at the burly rat, and two brass hoops dangled and clinked together as he moved his head."Doesn't say much, does he? Well, don't just stand there starin' at me, say something!"The rat opened his mouth, but no sound came out. What should he say?"Tongue tied, are we?" The ferret shook his head. "Ye' 'ave a name, lad?"The rat finally mustered the courage to speak."Doesn't everybeast?"  
He nearly slapped himself. That was the wrong thing to say.The two rats laughed. The ferret for a moment looked surprised, but he too chuckled."Well well, aren't ye the bold 'un! See there mates? He's got guts when he want's to 'ave 'em, eh?"The burly rat slapped him playfully on the back and thrust into his paw a beaker of dark ale."'Ere lad, sit down and 'ave a swig! Us crewbeasts gotta get t' know eachother! The name's Shivclaw, mate!"  
He was a huge gray rat with ragged ears and finery.  
The rat let out a sigh of relief and seated himself on a crate. He tilted his head back and ravinously gulped down the ale.  
The three corsairs were watching him and smiling. The burly rat spoke."There now, that's better, eh? So, accordin' to ye', everybeast 'as a name-""Clipjaw," said the rat beside him. He was a scrawny beast with light brown fur, and wore a tattered vest and a necklace of shark's teeth. A blue headband wound about the rat's head. He grinned. A scar ran down the length of his jaw. Clipjaw must have noticed the rat staring, for he touched the pink wound with his claw.  
"Shark. Nearly bit me 'ead off. See?"  
Clipjaw lifted his neck and pointed. A crest of pale scratches ran up to his chin."Lucky fer me though, I rammed me spear down the bugger's throat, an' got a lovely necklace in return!" Clipjaw lifted his sharktooth necklace and erupted into a fit of laughter.  
"An' I never saw me spear agin'!"  
The young rat had to smile.The ferret who had been laughing along with Clipjaw stopped and introduced himself.  
"I be' Slitfang, the capn's favourite."Shivclaw guffawed.  
"Aye, favourite deck swabber. Ye' probably got that fancy gash from moppin' the decks! What did ya do? Run into a bucket o' splinters?"Clipjaw pounded the rat on his back and burst out laughing. Slitfang growled.  
Still laughing, Clipjaw patted the rat's leg."C'mon mate! Tell us yer name!"Although still slightly nervous, he quietly answered."Tiller."Slitfang grinned."Tiller. Well ain't that pretty! Did yer mother call ye' that?"  
Shivclaw slapped Slitfang's shoulder."Go easy on the lad, eh? He be a new beast in these parts.""My father named me. He fished, I steered the boat."Clipjaw draped a friendly claw about Tiller's shoulders.  
"Well Tiller me lad, We'll show ya the ropes o' the place, won't we mates?"Shivclaw and Slitfang answered in unison."Aye!"Okay, that's that. Just some background info, Tiller, obviously, was not born a pirate, but you'll learn more about that in the next parts! 


	3. Shipmate Briefing

Chapter 3! Okay, by mistake, In the reviews, I accidentally called Clipjaw, Clipfang, so sorry about the confusion. His name is Clipjaw. I just got mixed up. It's actually really confusing trying to remember everyone's name, so please bear with me.

To Tiller's great surprise, he thoroughly enjoyed the boisterous company of his fellow shipmates. They told him stories of their sea adventures, coastal raids and battles with other pirates. Tiller was so absorbed, he forgot about the newly christened "devil wind" that occasionally gusted through the dock.

He always assumed pirates were cruel and savage beasts bent on blood and booty, but this was not all true. Yes, they fought, looted, murdered, and drank, but Tiller figured there was more to it than that. There was a certain unusual bond between a seabeast and his crew and captain, and even his ship. A pirate always kept to the pirate's code, and loved their ships as if they were family. It seemed a harsh life, no doubt, but Tiller actually found himself looking forward to a life, who was loudly voicing his opinion about the best thing about being a corsair.

"I'd say the best thing 'bout bein' o' pirate would be...the ladies. Ye' know, all the pretty liddle females. They like strong and 'andsome beasts, such as me' self," he boasted loudly.

He paused and thought awhile before continuing.

"That an' the loot, the grog, and the killin'."

Clipjaw laughed.

Skivclaw snorted.

"That's got t' be th' most ye 'ave thought 'bout something, Slitfang, me ol' time mate."

Slitfang gave Skivclaw a murderous glare and touched the blade of his scimitar.

"I'll just pretend I didn't 'ear that, Skivclaw, me favourite messmate."

"Pretend all ye' want, it still be true."

Slitfang hissed and made to stand and draw his weapon, but Clipjaw pulled him down, sighing.

"Easy mate. Ye' remember what I said 'bout the cap'n. 'Sides, there ain't no point."

"Damn the cap'n! She's treatin' us like a bunch o' whinin' whelps!"

Tiller, who had not been listening, finally spoke up.

"Who captains the _Tempest_?"

A much angered Slitfang stopped and peered impassively at Tiller. He looked to Skivclaw, who in turn looked down. Clipjaw cast a sideways glance at the great dark ship and checked to see if no other creatures were around. He replied in an anxious tone.

"Don't ya' know mate?"

Tiller shook his head.

Clipjaw lowered his voice and leaned in.

"The _Tempest_. Aye. 'Tis an evil vessel. A bad omen. A great pirate who's seen more battles than any o' us pirates care t' know is the lord o' his floatin' fortress. He be a massive searat, black and scarred. Great lust for shiny things, that 'un. They say he 'as a 'oard o' treasure layin' in bilge. Supposedly it's what keeps the _Tempest _from tippin' over.

The cap'n, she loathes the _Tempest _an' it's crew beasts."

Tiller, still admiring the evil beauty of the dark wood ship, spoke.

"It's a masterpiece. Why would she hate it?"

Clipjaw looked taken aback.

"WHY? Why would she 'ate it? The bloody thing is a curse! A curse that rides the currents! Oh, no beast knows exactly why the cap'n 'ates the lord an' his great fortress. But I wouldn't blame 'er. I would not dare step within o' foot o' the that hellship!"

Tiller shook his head.

"Then why are we anchored at the same dock as this "hellship"? If it's as bad as you say, then why aren't we elsewhere?"

"Ye' can ask the cap'n when ye' see 'er."

A lanky weasel garbed in a faded green tunic stalked up to the trio.

"Cap'n wants ye," he said, motioning to the tavern.

Slitfang inhaled sharply and shook his head, his earrings jangling.

Skivclaw raised his eyebrows.

"Good luck mate," he said gravely.

Glancing nervously at the weasel, Tiller rose and walked towards the tavern, his heart beating.

Alrighty! Here's a hint. The conversation about the _Tempest_ is a key one, so remember that. You'll find out more about Tiller soon! Please R&R!


	4. The Captain, Part 1

Alrighty! Chapter 4! I know the going is slow, what with all the chatting, but things will spice up! Tiller meets the captain!

* * *

Tiller suddenly became aware of the chill wind that he had ignored while sitting with his shipmates. The fear of meeting his captain only made him colder. He didn't even know why he dreaded meeting his captain. Slitfang and Clipjaw had spoken of her in such a way that it seemed she was a definite ruler of her ship and crew, and she knew it, and used her position well. 

A tyrant that rules off fear was not Tiller's idea of a leadership, being born and raised amongst humble, hard-working creatures that only wanted to be left alone. His former home was a fishing village on a small and peaceful island, of which belonged to a chain of other small islands. It was an isolated archipelago with an abundant food supply and trade market, and Tiller missed it very much.

He abruptly ceased his sorrowful thoughts, knowing it madness to show weakness in a place like this. He was a pirate now, and there would be no time to show emotions.

Tiller set his jaw firmly and breathed deep.

He set a shaking claw on the old wooden door of the tavern and took a quick sideways glance at his mates behind him. They were all watching him. Skivclaw nodded.

Once again taking in a deep breath, he effortlessly pushed the door open, it's rickety hinges creaking.

Tiller was greeted by a great blast of warmth and a strange scent of ale and filth. Voices hummed and droned in his ears as he blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the dim lighting of the tavern.

As everything slowly came into focus, he peered around timidly.

There were several tables seating various numbers of corsair and pirate beasts, all of which wore an array of ugly weapons, tattered clothes, and tarnished finery. There were lanterns hung from the ceiling, and glowing coals filled a blackened fireplace.

Tiller started as a cruel looking stoat leaped up from his seat and attacked a ferret in front of him with a beaker of wine. He shouted and threw the beaker, narrowly missing the ferret's head. It crashed into the plank wall in a shower of red droplets and dark glass. A single shard ricocheted of the stone hearth and flew at the ferret, lodging itself cruelly in his cheek. The ferret let a voracious snarl and in a flash was on top of the stoat.

Tiller looked away, not wanted to see spilled blood mingle with spilled wine.

Turning his head, he glimpsed a fox swaggering towards him.

Sneering, the fox stopped in front of him and looked him over with obvious disapproval.

"So, ye' be th' new beast?"

Tiller merely nodded, frowning.

The fox snorted.

"Ye' don't look like a pirate t' me. Don't see what th' capn' saw in ye'."

The fox grimaced again and motioned with his head for Tiller to follow him. The fox spoke as he weaved his way about the tables.

"Best watch yer tongue, lad. The capn' kin be..." the fox glanced at Tiller and smiled evilly, baring his yellowed fangs. "Grouchy," he said, chuckling darkly.

Tiller decided he didn't like this fox, and kept his distance. He looked to where the fox seemed to be leading him: a dark corner far back in the tavern. There was a single table set up with three chairs. In one sat a shady figure with it's back against the wall, slender claws fondling a tankard handle.

The fox stopped at the table. Everything seemed muffled here.

"Cap'n," he said curtly. "Here's the pretty liddle sailor ye' wanted." He motioned with his claws.

The figure slowly turned it's head and regarded Tiller. He didn't like the silence one bit.

"Go git yerself a drink, Riptail. I call ye' if I need ye'."

Riptail, who Tiller noticed had no tail, saluted smartly and strode off.

The figure swept a graceful paw over the table.

"Have a seat."

Hesitantly, Tiller took a seat across from the silhouette. He sunk slightly into his chair and waited silently.

The muffled noises of the tavern offered some respite from the uneasy silence, but nothing else offered the new searat comfort, especially not the splintery chair he was seated in. He fidgeted anxiously.

He was a little startled when the captain finally spoke. It sounded so out of place here.

"Don't say much, do you."

Tiller noted the tone of the comment. It wasn't a question. That only made him feel worse.

Still, he definitely didn't want to anger his captain.

"Only when things need saying," he said silently before adding a timid, "captain."

He gulped as the figure leaned forward into the light.

His captain, like himself, was a rat. A female rat. Female pirates were not unheard of, but Tiller new they were uncommon. Especially ones with such power and supremacy over a crew. She held a strong air of dominance and respect about her, which was only enhanced by her measuring glare.

Tiller sank further into his chair.

"Well, aren't you a bold and brazen young fellow," she said. "Sensible, as well." Her lips formed a half smile. Tiller thought it was a pretty smile, a rare smile that lit up faces.

She narrowed her dark hazel eyes.

"Yet, boldness is not always a good thing, and is not always sensible, so I would take care how you say things if I were you. It could get you into serious trouble. Remember that."

"Yes, captain," he mumbled.

She smiled and was silent for a while. Tiller felt her heavy gaze upon him.

He raised his eyes as she spoke.

"You're new at this pirate business, aren't you."

Once again it wasn't a question.

"Yes, captain."

"Mmm. It's really quite obvious, you know," she stated. "For instance, instead of "aye, captain", you say "yes, captain", and you flinched away when that ferret over yonder attacked the stoat. Not to mention you look terribly frightened. Do I frighten you, lad?"

Tiller glanced up quickly and looked away.

"Everything frightens me these days," he muttered absentmindedly. He swallowed. "Captain."

She chuckled silently, her eyes shining.

"Really? Well, at least you're being honest. What was your name again?"

"Tiller." He was grateful it was a question.

"Well Tiller, being honest is a good thing, for good creatures. You are now a pirate, and being honest will get you killed. This a very different life from the one you're used to, I'm sure, but you'd best get used to it. I took you on because I saw a bit of my old self in you. An old memory, returning to haunt me. I know how it feels."

Tiller stared at her in confusion.

"That, and I can see you are a strong and agile young beast. I need someone like you. Someone who will put everything they've got into one task, and never stop nor tire till the job is finished. You're smart for a rat, and that's clear indeed, however..." she paused, as if to gather her thoughts.

"A few things worry me. First of all, you show your emotions. Your fear is most evident. You must learn to hide your feelings If you want to last. Second, you don't seem to like fighting or blood. Have you ever killed anybeast before?"

"Yes." He didn't like where this was going.

"And you didn't like it, did you."

There it was again.

He sighed.

"No, not really," he muttered gravely.

"Didn't think so. Which brings us to the third reason. Once again, you were honest. You could have said it was the best thing you had ever done. Learn to say the things that won't get you killed, not the things that are the truth. Fourth! You'd best learn how to kill and loot because for as long as you sail on my ship, you are going to kill and loot! Fifth! Learn how to talk like a pirate! I don't believe I need to give any reasons."

Tiller smiled.

"I'd expect you know the basics of sailing."

"Ye-, Aye, captain"

She grinned.

"There, see? It's not so hard, once you get used to it. Now you're probably wondering why I'm speaking like you are. Well the truth is, I was just like you. I was not born a pirate, but I became one and learned fast. That's how I got to be captain of my own ship. It's a very beautiful one, wouldn't you agree?"

Tiller, suddenly feeling more comfortable, put on an arrogant grin.

"No, I think it's the most ugly vessel ever to sail these seas."

The captain broke into a fit of laughter. She tried to speak through it.

"I think you've missed my point, Tiller! I said lie so you don't get killed! Sixth! Never tell a captain their ship is ugly!"

Even Tiller chuckled along with her.

"But you told the truth about you not being a pirate to begin with, so really, you've gone back on your own advice," Tiller stated pointedly.

The captain winked at him and drank from her tankard.

"You've passed your first test, Tiller me lad." She passed him another tankard.

"Welcome to my crew!"

The two tapped their drinks together. Tiller drank deeply, reflecting on his captains words.

* * *

Whoa! This is quite a bit longer! Anyway, you'll find out the captain's name and more of that stuff in the next few chapters! 


	5. The Captain, Part 2

Chapter 5! Finally! Sorry for the wait, but I was VERY busy. Okay, in this chapter, You find out why Tiller became a pirate, and you'll find out the captain's name. Enjoy!

* * *

Tiller actually enjoyed being in company of his captain. He felt as if he had known her all his life. He felt a more friend-like relationship with her, rather than just a crewbeast and captain. 

As she spoke of past plunders in her early years as pirate, he sipped the ale, knowing her friendly ways will most likely change as soon as they were around the rest of the crew and on the open sea. That made him sad.

"The bloody hare chopped the captain down, then and there. I remember the blood that splattered my face. I knew then it was best to retreat back to the ship, so I gathered what was left of our crew and swam out to the ship. Not all of us made it. The creatures on the shore began firing arrows and stones. One arrow grazed my shoulder, but I paid it no mind. I hoisted myself up the anchor chain and let loose the sails." She started chuckling to herself.                                                                                                 "We sailed the ship with only five crew beasts," she laughed. "Five! Can you believe it? One of those five was Riptail, and he's been my best bosun ever since!" She smiled and tipped her head back, upending her tankard.

"That's how I became a captain. But the ship that we had sailed off in was in need of extensive repair. It looked like a great floating barrel, really. Anyway, it started taking on water and what can five beasts do about that? Nothing!" She banged on the table with the tankard and a fat stoat swaggered up and replaced the empty tankard with a full one of frothing ale.

"Me thanks t' ya, Bulfret!"

That stoat nodded and waddled off to fill more tankards.

"Now where was I? Oh yes! That rusty bucket of a vessel began to keel over! Bloody impossible to stand straight!" She winked.

"We would have been done for, but one of the beasts caught sight of land, which happened to be this very island. So we piled up all we could on the port side and pulled hard at the sails, trying to tip it back up. It worked long enough for us to steer in to the dock." She started laughing again.

"Ha! You should have seen it. A great plank sailing in, leaning on it's starboard side! We were the laughing stock for a short while, then everyone learned that we were only five beasts! That shut 'em up!"

Tiller smiled and sipped his ale.

"What happened to the ship?"

"Ah, well, we napped in an inn until next morning, and then we went to the docks and, low and behold, the bloody ship was gone! We thought someone had commandeered it!"

She snorted into her tankard and took a large gulp.

"On closer inspection, we found the crowsnest sticking up out of the water! The thing had sunk overnight! And it's was still tied to the dock!" She sighed thoughtfully and sloshed the ale around, watching a bit of it run down the side of her tankard.

"That was long ago, but I still remember it as if it was yesterday," she said. "Wouldn't be surprised it the ship's still there, silently watching the other vessels pass over it." She sighed again, almost sadly. "'Tis a sad end for a ship, Tiller. Wrecked at the bottom of an harbour," she said, shaking her head. "Nope. A ship should end it's days where it belongs. The open ocean. That's how any honest pirate should go," she murmured.

For a long while she was silent. Tiller eyed her, waiting for her to say something.

After what seemed two minutes, she looked up.

"There's something you should know, Tiller." She paused, squinting through the darkness.

"I'm being all friendly now, but all that's going to change as soon as we head out."

Tiller's heart sank. He knew it.

"You'll be my crewbeast, and I'll be your captain, and nothing more. Seventh rule. Pirates don't make friends. I have a feeling you knew that when before you came to me. So why did you."

Tiller sighed inwardly. Once again, it wasn't a question, and once again, Tiller was being forced to bring up a touchy subject. He remained silent, staring at his reflection in the ale.

"Tiller, I know this goes against what I said, but I want you to be honest and tell my why you came here."

He took a deep breath.

"My village…was attacked by pirates…" He didn't want to continue.

"Ah, I see. Revenge, is it." She shook her head. "Tiller me lad, do you really expect me to believe a rat like you would seek revenge for the death of his family?"

"I don't expect anything from you. You're my captain."

She gazed at him, deep in thought.

Tiller didn't like the uneasy silence. He continued.

"It's more than revenge. Where else would I go? What else would I do? There weren't very many choices. Besides, you only just met me. How would you know I wouldn't seek revenge?"

She gave him an irritated glare.

"I'm a pirate, Tiller, and a captain of a crew. Lesson eight. Know your crewbeasts…and your enemies. Everybeast is capable of feeling vengeful, but very few are able to act upon it. You are one of the many who can't and won't."

Tiller was stung by that comment.

"Who says I can't?"

The captain furrowed her brows in anger.

"I do, Tiller."

Tiller put his tankard down, perhaps too forcefully. He was getting angry. His captain knew nothing about him, really. Or did she? She acted like she did…And that only made him angrier.

"Why does it matter to you why I'm here? Why are you a pirate?"

The captain leaned forward, her voice hardening.

"Why does it matter to you? Now, if I were you, I would shut that trap of yours. Remember your place."

"It's something to do with the _Tempest_ and it's captain, isn't it," he said, deliberately making it a statement.

The captain straightened slowly and stared him in the eye. Tiller immediately regretted saying that. Although she seemed composed on the outside, inside, she was fuming. His captain seemed to be burning a whole in his very soul.

"Get out." Her voice was quiet, but the fury was waiting to burst through.

Tiller hesitated.

"Get, out."

He didn't move.

"This tavern is for the public-" he murmured.

_"DO YOU THINK I BLOODY WELL CARE?! WHEN I SAY GET OUT, I MEAN, **GET OUT!!!!**"_

Tiller was shaking as the captain towered over of him, eyes ablaze with wrath. Everybody in the tavern had turned to look. She growled and upturned the table, spilling the ale over the floor.

She brought out a long and deadly cutlass, stained red with dark blood.

He panicked and ducked as the captain slashed at him. Tiller sprang up and dodged another swipe before scrambling across the tavern for the door.

Breathing hard, he was nearly at the door when Riptail grabbed his arm and wrenched him around to face him.

"'Old up there," he grated evilly, "who's gonna pay fer th' spilled drinks?

Terrified, Tiller viciously belted him on the nose with his free claw, knocking him over.

He ran straight out of the door.

He had very little time to close it as a tankard came flying towards his head. He slammed the door as it smashed against the wood, splinters flying and ale lazily dripping down it.

Panting, he leaned against the tavern wall and wiped sweat away with a shaky paw.

He saw his shipmates staring at him in surprise.

"What in th' name of 'ellgates 'appened, lad?" Asked a bewildered Clipfang.

His heart threatening to burst from his chest, Tiller peered at them apprehensively.

"I didn't keep my mouth shut."

* * *

Oooh, Tiller hit a soft spot in his captain! Something obviously happened to the captain (Who's name is???) You'll find out soon enough… R&R! 


	6. Dark Omens

Chapter 6! Finally! Okay just to brief, Tiller got into BIG trouble with the Captain, (which we still don't know her name, don't fret though, you'll learn it soon enough!)Enjoy!

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Skivclaw stared at the shaking Tiller.

"What in th' name o' 'ellgates did ya say ta 'er?!"

Tiller merely shook his head. He pulled his cloak around him and walked briskly off, not wanting to talk to anyone.

Clipjaw called out after him.

"Where ya goin' mate?"

He didn't answer. He just kept on walking. Where, he did not know. _Just anywhere but here, _He thought silently.

As he walked past the main dock he heard the tavern door slam open with a loud bang. An angry female voice called out. Tiller slowed his walk but did not dare to look back.

"Slitfang! Where is Tiller!" Shouted the Captain.

Slitfang opened his mouth to answer but stopped as Clipjaw nudged him with his foot claw.

"Answer me!"

"He…he..just-"

"TILLER!"

Tiller's already beached heart sunk further into the depths of despair. His captain had seen him. He gulped and turned around slowly.

His captain stood there, fuming.

"Come here, Tiller, now," she grated out with a rage that she could barely contain.

Gulping again, he walked back over in front of the tavern. He stopped just out of his captain's reach.

"Tiller," she said icily, "Tiller Tiller Tiller, what am I going to do with you…" She sounded like she already knew.

His heart had reached rock bottom.

"I know!" She said with a horrid smile, "Tiller, today's your lucky day! You get to scrub _all_ the decks! AND, once we head out, you'll be cookin' for the whole crew for two weeks. I think ol' Stumps would appreciate a break, wouldn't he lads?"

"Er…Aye, capn," said a bewildered Slitfang.

The other two just nodded their heads and muttered a barely audible "aye capn".

The captain turned to Tiller.

"Are my orders clear?"

He nodded, too scared to meet her eyes.

"Good. Now, best get to it. I want my ship clean as a whistle before she sets out, understand?"

He gulped once.

"Y-Aye capn."

She glared at him for a brief moment before turning on her heel and stomping back into the tavern.

The four remained silent, staring at the tavern door where their captain had disappeared into. The icy gale was now a chill breeze.

Slitfang broke the silence.

"Why did she ask me?"

Skivclaw grimaced and cuffed him on the head. Slitfang snarled.

"What was that fer, mate? 'Tis a fair question! She could 'ave just as easily asked yas!"

Skivclaw cuffed him again.

"She asked ya 'cause ye be the dumbest 'un o'us all!"

Clipjaw began to laugh. Tiller would have smiled, but he was in no mood for merriment.

Skivclaw continued to berate the angered Slitfang.

"An' the capn knows that ye be th' dumbest, therefore she knows ya would 'ave told 'er where Tiller was!"

"She saw 'im anyways! She didn't need me t' find 'im!"

Skivclaw let out an annoyed sigh.

"Yah thick-skulled, bottom-feeding, mud-wallowing, brainle-"

Skivclaw was suddenly cut off as the slight breeze blew into the harbour like an ambushing beast, howling and raging in icy anger. Tiller staggered slightly and was winded as the gust blasted into him. His eyes stung and watered from the chill bite and his cloak flapped wildly about him. He thought he heard Clipjaw say something, but his mate's voice was drowned out by the moaning and creaking of ship timbers and the violent snapping of sails. Even the ocean answered the wind's call, slamming noisily into the hulls of the ships, causing them to bang up against the docks that held them.

Tiller expected the wind to die down, but it didn't. It picked up. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his back to the wind, but it roared in his ears and beat at his back, sending a chill down his spine and freezing him to the bone. He began to shiver and tried to pull his cloak closer with his numb claws, but again, the wind buffeted at him so hard that it stung when his cloak slapped against him.

He felt something brush by him and tug at his arm.

"Come on, mate! Fog's rollin' in!" The last words were barely audible.

Tiller slowly opened his eyes. The wind has stopped completely. He turned to look seaward. He was shocked by what he saw.

A great solid wall of grey fog was looming closer to the dock like a dark phantom. It writhed and churned like a wounded serpent, gliding upon the water's surface with silent wings. The brumal cloak consumed all in it's path, leaving only darkness behind. Tiller shivered violently and watched as his breath came out as mist. He hugged his cloak closer, unable to move as the fog bank towered over him, blocking out the sun. The world went dark as the death mist reached the dock. Tiller wanted to hit himself for being so unsettled by mere fog, but he was frozen in spot. He watched the grey doom inch closer, and expected it to wisp his soul away, or a pick him up and throw him against the tavern wall, but it was nothing like that at all. He took a sharp breath as the fog enveloped him. He expected the worst, but he barely felt anything. An eerie silence washed over him. He couldn't even hear the moaning timbers and the waves anymore, and it felt as if the very air itself was tightening on him, grasping him. Worse, he couldn't see anything. Not the ocean, the early morning fires, his mates, everyone was gone. He was alone in an endless sea of grey. Oddly afraid, he took a step back.

Suddenly, he felt something tickle the side of his face. He jumped in shock and peered around him. Nothing was there. He stood still. His heart was pounding furiously in his chest now, and his breath was becoming ragged.

Then, out of nowhere, the faintest of sounds flew up from the sea. Tiller turned his head in the direction that he thought the ocean was in. He could not believe it. He had lost his bearings. He would have headed for the tavern, but he was afraid he would walk straight off the dock and into the water, and no beast would hear his cries for help.

The sound came again, tickling his fur. He froze.

Something whispered in his ear.

It was unlike anything the young rat had ever heard. It wasn't a voice and it wasn't the wind. What was it? It made Tiller shiver even more.

Again, the whisper in his ear.

He held his breath and tried to listen.

The whisper was growing louder.

A terrible feeling of doom suddenly settled upon him like a fatal disease, a plague that he could not be rid of. He turned wildly, this way and that, trying to spot something.

Something caught his eye. He stopped.

_There!_

A shape in the fog.

It was tall, whatever it was, and big. Very big. Tiller felt his blood freeze. Was this the thing that made him feel so cold? The fog swirled around it, revealing more of the dark shape.

Tiller squinted his eyes. He screwed his face in confusion.

Something slowly materialized out of the grey cloak………

* * *

Well! That's all for now folks! Please R&R! Sorry to leave you hanging! Until next chapter….. 


	7. The Grimwake

Chapter 7! Finally! Okay just to brief, Tiller's been punished, and he's seen something in an unnatural fog bank. Short brief, but whatever. Note- There's a rather grim part at the end of this chapter, so beware. It's not _too_ bad, but if you're not into that kind of thing, just skip that parta bit...Here we go!

* * *

A shadowy shape drifted into Tiller's view. 

His blood froze.

A ship, he thought fearfully.

His claws and legs began to shake uncontrollably from the dead cold and the horrible sight before him. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Was it the fog that made the shape? No.

There, upon the grey waters like a lost spirit, drifted a ship larger than any vessel he had ever seen.

It's great hulking stern was highly ornate, and appeared to have five decks, something near unheard of for ships of the time. Four great masts towered above the decks and torn and tattered sails moved like grey wraiths amidst the swirling fog.

Tiller stood, too terrified to move. What in the name of hellgates was this thing? It just sat there, floating on the turbid sea, as if waiting for something….

Tiller wished it would show it's side so he could see it's name…He then realized something.

Wait, the current should be washing it against the dock…so why isn't it? Is it anchored?

Even as the question raced through his mind, a faint groaning of ancient wood hovered over the mist and reached Tiller, and he watched in petrified terror as the ship's rudder moved silently through the waves. The ship began to turn.

Be careful what you wish for…He thought regretfully.

Slowly, the ship's bow came into view, and Tiller realized in growing horror that the anchor was drawn up.

How does it fight the currents! It's impossible…unless, he gulped, _It isn't a real ship at all…_

he gulped, 

As the behemoth ever so slowly came into full view, Tiller realized that this ship would have been beautiful once. It would have been a floating fortress of pride and power, prestige and glory…but now…..the ornate carvings and inlays were dull and wrecked beyond recognition, the gold was faded and tarnished, and the wood cracked and aged by the endless pounding of salty waves. Tiller could faintly see through the drifting fog that the ship had once been painted a dark colour, most likely a black darker than death itself. The mooring ropes that held the sails to the mast and ship were fayed, most of them were broken and hung there, motionless like dead serpents.

Tiller heard the whispering again, and the fog twisted around the haunting form like a dark claw, running slender flingers through the sad remains. For a moment, Tiller could not see the hull through the misty cloak, and he waited, terrified, for the ship to turn all the way onto it's starboard side. Perhaps the name still remained…

Just then, a mournful wind blew up against the harbour, or was it a wind? Tiller had never felt anything so strange. He felt the thick air move around him, yet it was empty and breathless, it had no chill nor warmth to it; it was…hollow.

The "ghost" wind filled Tiller with a sense of deep sadness. He felt as if his soul had left him, as if there was nothing happy in his life. His life was no longer worth living.

The wind blew again, moaning in his ears.

He looked to the ship.

It had stopped, and although the unearthly breeze blew, the sails and ropes did not stir. Tiller shivered as he thought he heard the timbers of the ship groan mournfully…as if weary…

It weeps…he thought sadly.

Tiller gazed at the ruined vessel in bleak sorrow. The apparition radiated with doom and hopelessness, and he swore he heard cries of pain and blood carried on the phantom wind, the cries of lost souls…_the cries of death…_

He held is breath as the fog withdrew it's spectral grasp on the timbers of the ship.

Slowly, slowly, along the side of the great vessel, the faded letters came into view…

Tiller's heart jumped to his throat.

The Grimwake…

His breath became laboured and he felt a bead of cold sweat run down is face. He had heard of the great ship _Grimwake_, oh, he had heard of it. He heard gruesome tales of the high queen of ships, the black terror of the seas, the reaper of the waves…

He thought his heart would tear itself from his chest as he read, over and over, not believing his eyes, the dull letterings on the timbers. A lump grew in is throat and his stomach tied in a knot. He couldn't tear his eyes from her…The _Grimwake_ held his gaze like a snake would hold it's prey in it's coils.

A great moaning and creaking of aged timbers drifted out across the harbour, dampened by the thickness of the fog.

Why does she weep? Tiller asked himself, almost pitying the sombre phantom.

The spectral wind blew again, and the _Grimwake _turned head on, showing it's grim and bloodied figurehead. The fog seemed to pulse and quiver asthe great ship's timbers groaned once again.

The misty cloak began to rise higher above the black surface of the water and Tiller felt a dead cold come about him as he came under the _Grimwake_'s phantom shadow...

Tiller choked in fear and horror.

Bodies, dead bodies of pirates floated in the water. Searats, weasels, stoats and ferrets, all drifted in the dark waters. The water…it was red…red with blood….

Tiller fainted.

* * *

O.o Creepy! Who are these poor shipbeasts? And what is the Grimwake, _truly?_Well, you'll have to keep reading! That's it for chapter seven! R&R .! 


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